


Holidays

by karelian



Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Christmas, Community: contrelamontre, Holidays, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, RPF, Sharing, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-25
Updated: 2002-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karelian/pseuds/karelian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viggo and Sean find ways to be happy together and not-together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One or two details of the first paragraph came from the cast commentary on the LOTR:FOTR extended edition DVD. The rest of this is completely and utterly false. Written for the contrelamontre taste challenge, about ten minutes overtime, but I was juggling IM conversations with rugbytackle co-conspirators so it's not entirely my fault. This is for those crazy women I love so much. Thanks to divineway for beta.

Viggo comes to Sean late, smelling of fried fish, several brands of cigarettes and nervousness. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says breathlessly before he even steps through the doorway. "I couldn't get them out of there. Kiran was giving me orders about how to cook everything and Dom was imitating everything he said behind his back, and Orlando was just all over the place grabbing everything, I couldn't make him sit still..." 

Sean, who has been quietly drinking ale and watching what passes for the sports news in Wellington, only smiles. Earlier he was annoyed that Viggo didn't at least call to tell him he'd be late. But if Viggo had called, he would only have tried to talk Sean into joining them, and the last thing Sean wanted was to squeeze into Viggo's tiny kitchen along with half the cast. It wouldn't occur to any of them that he and Viggo might want to be alone because none of them know. 

Sean has only been back from England for a couple of days. He had several late meetings that afternoon with Peter, Fran and Bob, so he begged off the gathering in the evening. He'd seen almost everyone the night before anyway, when Orlando insisted that they all get drunk to celebrate Sean's return, even though they all had to be on set early in the morning. 

So Sean spent the early hours of the day with the flavor of stale pretzels and bile in his mouth, thinking of how rotten he would feel if he weren't so bloody happy to be back. It's turning to autumn in New Zealand, the sun slanting golden on the hills. When he breathes he can almost taste the coming chill, clear and sharp in the wind. It's what Rivendell must be like in the time of the movie -- beautiful, but the days growing short. 

He watches as Viggo paces apologetically, still all wound up from entertaining the crowd. "...had to get the dishes washed or the whole place would have smelled like rotting fish, and take the garbage out, and Dom brought this sticky chocolate fudge cake that one of them got on the rug, and..." Viggo's voice trails off suddenly as he reaches into his bag. "Here." 

"What's this?" But it's perfectly obvious what it is -- a big red box of chocolates. "Thought we were past the hearts and flowers," grins Sean. "Viggo, you shouldn't have. I didn't even bring you chocolate body paint." 

"I, uh, I didn't. I -- fuck -- maybe I should have, but these were actually from Ian..." 

Sean's eyebrows shoot toward his hairline as he tugs at the cellophane wrapper, trying to hold in his grin. "I go away for a couple of weeks and already Ian's sending you candy?" 

"No, they're leftovers from some Valentine thing that he brought along tonight..." Viggo stops, because Sean has started laughing in earnest, stopping only to eat a chocolate-covered cherry. The juice runs in a sticky trail out the corner of his mouth, so syrupy-sweet it's almost bitter. "Cunt. I was trying to be nice..." 

Sean takes out what looks like a caramel and pops it into Viggo's mouth to shut him up. "'ankoo," Viggo mumbles indistinctly, and Sean kisses him, a toffee-flavored affair that leaves them both with gummy teeth. 

Not that Sean minds. He watches as Viggo rubs chocolate-tinted drool from the edge of his lips. "C'mon. Bed. Now." 

"I've got to shower. I've been cooking and cleaning and...Sean!..." 

Sean has lifted Viggo's hand to his mouth and is sucking his thumb. He can taste the toffee that Viggo just wiped off his lips, and, beneath it, curry and cumin and some other spice Sean can't name. His tongue travels down the palm, making Viggo shiver and releasing the flavors of frying fish, some strong citrus fruit and the Yerba Maté that Viggo's friend from Argentina sent him before Sean left. 

It's familiar, nostalgic. Traveling up Viggo's index finger, green with vegetable and red with pepper, Sean finds a painfully bitter spot of dish detergent and his lips curl. But there's the warm tobacco taste of Viggo's cigarettes at the side of the knuckle, and chocolate frosting like paint under the nail. 

"I've missed you," Sean whispers into Viggo's palm, which curves around his chin and pulls his face upward. Then Viggo is kissing him, with smoky brown sugar and fudge along his tongue. Sean thinks that Viggo could have come tasting of cheap beer and onion rings and turpentine and day-old garlic, and he still wouldn't be able to wait.


	2. We Two Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elessar and Macbeth prepare for the holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to my rugbytacklers!

The hobbits called from the house they were sharing for the holidays to tell him they missed him. Viggo could hear how drunk they were but even that made him nostalgic. They had sent him a strange assortment of books and postcards from their travels -- some that seemed calculated to impress, some that seemed crazy. Plus socks and a red necktie. He didn't dare guess which of them had picked that out.

Ian sent a card. So did John. So did Hugo. Cate didn't, but Viggo hadn't expected her to. Liv sent a photo of herself in costume from one of their scenes together, signed "your wife," with her fiancé's name beneath. Viggo was a little surprised not to hear from Miranda, but he wasn't sure where in the world she'd gone the past couple of months -- everywhere, it seemed from reports, but no place in particular when he asked after her.

Orlando sent bubble bath. Viggo thought it was another smelly human joke until he read the print on the advertisement that had been carefully folded around the packets. Then he wondered whether one of the others had put Orlando up to sending it. He didn't think Orlando had even been in England when the package was mailed. Karl might have known but Karl had disappeared after the last big press junket without calling to say goodbye. It had been a little much for all of them.

Viggo had planned to send cards, nothing fancy, just notebook pages, but the time had gotten away from him so he settled for phone calls when he could. Got Peter on his cell in the middle of the night, and Ian on location when they were in the same time zone. Kiran was away and nobody answered at Dave's. Elijah called again when he was sober and passed on greetings from some of the doubles who'd talked to some of the rest of them.

Viggo knew exactly when to call London. With the time difference, he'd calculated a narrow interval between probable arrival at the theater and getting too close to curtain. But he missed the opportunity a couple of days with work, and once distracted by something he needed to write down before he forgot it, and once on the phone too long with publicity people who wouldn't go away. He was starting to think he'd fucked up. None of them heard all that often from Sean, who had been understandably busy, but it felt a little too much like the Fellowship was breaking and he could have done something about it.

When the package caught up with him, he thought at first that it had to be another joke from the kids, or something that a strange Scottish fan had gotten someone to forward to him. Whisky wasn't his drink and the hideous tartan boxers had yellow stripes amidst the blues and reds. Then he read the note and started to laugh. Dialed the number even though he had no idea exactly what time it was. Left a message, one king to another.

"Hey, you, still treading the primrose path," he beamed when Sean finally caught him on Christmas Eve. "Thought you'd learned your lesson."

"Yeah, and I die every night," chuckled Sean. "All for bloody Scotland. It's freezing there this time of year. You've got me beat anyway -- I hear you're the king of Hollywood now."

"Till they run me out of town. Next year when all this is over, we should take a vacation. Go be kings of the road." He hadn't really thought before speaking, but as soon as the words were out, Viggo knew that was what he really wanted even if he didn't get it as a Christmas present. He could wait till _Macbeth_ and New Line were through with them.

"One day our paths will lead us there," Sean said in Boromir's accent. "What are you doing for the holidays?"

"Thought I'd do something kingly and indulgent like take a bubble bath." An earful of groaning laughter rang through the long-distance connection. "But I wasn't kidding, before. Road trip. Field and fountain, moor and mountain. You and me."

"As soon as we abdicate our thrones," agreed Sean. "And hey. Merry Christmas."


End file.
